The Sociopath's Sister
by Deniecey
Summary: Despite how Sherlock came off as cold and aloof to most people, there were people that he didn't just care for, but he loved. His sister Enola Holmes was one of them.
1. A Meeting of Sorts

_Despite how Sherlock came off as cold and aloof to most people, there were people that he didn't just care for, but he loved. There were few people he could stand to be around long term before their low level of intelligence annoyed him. Among the few people he cared for, his siste__r, Enola was one of them._

* * *

Opening the door to 221 Baker Street, John asked, "Do you **have** to analyze everyone?'' He was completely exasperated with Sherlock.

Following John up the stairs to the flat, Sherlock replied, "Yes, and I still don't understand why you're so upset.''

"You don't understand why I'm mad? Sherlock, you can't just go around telling women that their husbands are having an affair!"

"Well, better for her to know-'' Sherlock abruptly stopped talking. A women was sitting in his chair. Additionally, the flat was now littered with packing boxes.

_Is she a_ _client? _John wondered. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She had dark brown curly hair, brown eyes, and John couldn't help thinking that she looked a little like Sherlock.

Looking up from the newspaper, a grin on her face, she said. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just reading about this case you solved. You've become quite popular, did you know, Sherlock?''

"I was aware. What are you doing here, and why are all these boxes here?'' Sherlock asked.

"Well, I just recently lost my job and I'm using lost loosely, because, I really didn't enjoy being a waitress. I mean, my talents are completely wasted serving food, and the lease for my flat ended. So, I thought rather than looking for a new flat and another job, I would move in with you.'' She replied, gesturing to the boxes around the flat.

''Well, you thought wrong. There are only two rooms in this flat, one is mine and the other is John's.

'' I didn't realize until I saw your flat, but I've already figured out a solution. I was talking with your landlady, Mrs. Hudson. She's really nice by the way, and she told me that she has a basement flat that she has never been able to rent out because of the damp. I know I can get rid of the mold and then it will be just right."

John, who had been quiet during this exchange, finally asked the question he had been wondering. " I'm sorry, but who are you?''

"John, this is my sister, Enola Holmes."

* * *

**Auther's Note**

**I realized I forgot to add last night when this takes place. This takes place after A Study in Pink, but before The Blind Banker, and follows throughout series one and two.  
**


	2. Heads Will Roll

"You have sister?'' John asked. ''Well, of course you have a sister. Any other siblings you have hidden away in a closet?''

"No, there's just Mycroft and Enola.''

Enola stood up and walked over to John. As soon as she looked at him, she began making her deductions._ He was in the war, He's a doctor, has a sister, bachelor. Iraq or Afghanistan? I'm not sure. _Clearing her head, Enola put her hand forward. ''It's nice to meet you, John. You must be a very patient person, to be my brother's flatmate, I mean. I'm his sister, but sometimes he even annoys me. ''

''Yes, unfortunately, I know what you mean.'' John said, shaking Enola's hand.

Sherlock, who was laying on the couch thinking, suddenly bolted up. "Enola, do they know that you're here?"

"If you mean our parents, yes, they know I'm here. No running off this time." Enola replied. "In fact, it was their idea. They thought you would keep me out of trouble. As if that's likely.'' She said with a laugh.

"What do mean by that?'' asked Sherlock, offended.

"Oh, come on. You get into more trouble than I do." Enola said.

"She's right about that, Sherlock.'' John said.

Sherlock huffed as he turned over on the couch and resumed his thinking. _"He's being a big_ _baby.'' _Enola mouthed to John. John nodded in agreement.

''I'm going to make tea. Would you like some?" Enola asked.

"That would be lovely, thank you." answered John. Starting his laptop up, John was already thinking what he would write about Enola.

Enola asked Sherlock if he wanted any tea, but the only response she got back from him was a grunt. ''Well, I'm going to take that as a no." Enola stated. ''Anyway, it was silly of me to ask."

Enola strolled into the small but functional kitchen. She searched through the cabinets for a teapot and tea, and was rewarded with the sight of both. It wasn't long before 221B was filled with the smell of freshly brewed tea. Enola smiled as she filled two mugs. She absolutely loved tea of any kind. Oh, except for chamomile. She hated chamomile. '' John, is there any cream?'' Enola asked.

Updating his blog to include their last case and the arrival of Sherlock's sister, John replied, ''If we have any, it would be in the fridge."

**The Personal Blog Of Dr. John H. Watson**

_Sherlock and I had just finished our case (see last entry for details) and we were leaving Scotland Yard. As we walked past a young couple, Sherlock, clueless as he is about people's feelings, stopped and proceeded to tell the women that her husband was having an affair and gave evidence to prove it. Both Sherlock and her husband received well deserved slaps. When we returned to 221B, we found a women sitting in our flat. I briefly wondered if she was a client before learning that she was, in fact, Sherlock's younger sister.  
_

Just then, John was interrupted by a shriek from the kitchen. He jumped out of his chair and ran into the kitchen surprised to find that Enola wasn't hurt. She was leaning with her back against the fridge and a look of shock on her face. "There's a head in the fridge.'' Enola whispered. Pulling her aside, John opened the fridge to take a look for himself. " Yep, there's a head in the fridge. Sherlock! Why is there a bloody head in the fridge?'' asked John shouting.

"It's an experiment. Don't touch it." Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock, you can't keep a head in the fridge.'' Enola scolded. ''That's where food goes. Food, **that we eat**. Keeping a head next to food is disgusting."

''Well, where would you suggest I put it?'' Sherlock asked.

"How about anywhere but here." Enola said.

''Fine!" Sherlock said angrily. He slumped into the kitchen and took the head from the fridge. Opening the door he left to dispose of the head.

''Well.'' Enola said. "Now that that is taken care of, how about some tea?'' She handed a mug of tea to John.

Taking the offered mug of tea, John replied, '' I couldn't agree more.''


	3. Tea and a Case

After Sherlock had left to dispose of the head, Enola and John moved into the sitting room to sit down and get acquainted. Enola glanced around the sitting room, it was certainly cozy with a fireplace and warm colors. If a little crowded with odds and ends. And was that- a skull?

She took a sip of her tea and felt the warmth spread throughout her body. That was the best thing about tea, it could always warm you up inside and out. Enola's thoughts began drifting toward her new flat, hopefully she could get rid of the damp. Once again she had to jar herself out of her thoughts, as she realized John had just asked her a question.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?'' asked Enola.

''I asked if you and Sherlock were close.'' John said.

''A bit. There's quite an age gap, but I'm closer with him than with Mycroft.'' Enola said thoughtfully. '' I remember when I was three or four, how he would read encyclopedias to me. And he taught me everything I know. He's a great big brother.''

''Are you sure we're talking about the same person?'' asked John.

"Yes." Enola laughed.

They heard the ground floor door slam below and footsteps on the stairs. ''Sherlock's back.'' Enola commented.

"Yeah, I can hear him." John said.

Opening the door, Sherlock walked in towards the couch.

"Oh, Sherlock,'' Enola said.''I realize I probably should have asked you this earlier, but where did you put the head? You didn't just drop it into a bin, did you?"

"No, of course not. I brought it to the morgue at St. Barts.

"Good." Enola sighed in relief.

''Well,'' Enola said as she stood up. ''I should probably bring these boxes to my flat. Are you going to help me, Sherlock?''

''I'm busy.'' Sherlock replied.

''Doing what?'' asked an irritated Enola.

''Thinking.''

Enola rolled her eyes as she picked one of the many boxes up.

''I'll help you.'' John said.

''Thank you, John.'' Enola said giving her brother a look.

* * *

Half an hour later, Enola and John were bringing the last two boxes into the flat.

''Oh, please be careful with that box, it has my violin in it.'' Enola said biting her lip.

''Don't worry I'll be careful with it.'' John said. ''It's funny though, Sherlock plays the violin, too.''

''Who do think taught me to play?'' Enola said opening and unpacking the boxes. ''Thanks for helping me. I can take it from here. You probably have something you have to do."

''Well, I was glad to help.'' John said as he turned and walked back up the stairs.

Enola dug through the boxes until she found what she was looking for. Her MP3 player. Putting her earbuds in she hummed along to the violin music. It took her a while to thoroughly clean the mold and dust out of the flat, but when she was finished it looked and smelled a lot better. Now came the best part, decorating the flat. She unpacked her violin, Agatha Christie books, camera, and posters. After she finished, she stepped back to survey her work. Enola would have to send for her furniture, but for the next few days she could sleep on the couch in 221B.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

* * *

Leaning over John's shoulder Enola read the writeup of their last case. ''The Mazarin Gem? You're really going to call it that?'' She asked.

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?''

''Well, it just seems a little...''

''A little what?'' asked John.

''Oh would you two shut up!'' Sherlock shouted. John and Enola both glanced over at him angrily.

''We have a client.'' Sherlock explained gesturing toward the open door, where a middle aged women was standing.

''If you're busy, I can come by later.'' She said.

''No, we were just having a conversation. I assume you are Mrs. Turner?'' Sherlock asked.

''Yes, you assume correctly,'' Mrs. Turner said. ''Did Martha Hudson tell you about me?''

''Yes, she told me you have a case for us.

''Why don't you sit down.'' Enola said pointing toward the chair that she had named the client chair. All four of them proceeded to the chairs in the sitting room. Sherlock and John sat in their chairs, Mrs. Turner sat in the ''client'' chair, and Enola sat on the arm of John's chair. Which, for some reason, really seemed to annoy Sherlock.

''You see,'' She began. ''It's about one of my lodgers. She never shows her face, always wears a veil. I saw her face once. It was horribly... Well I don't like to think about it, but that's not the reason I came here Mister Holmes. She's been a very good and quiet lodger, until last week. At night, I've heard her shouting 'Murder, murder' and 'You cruel beast! You monster!'"

**Author's Note**

**I thought it was getting a bit too domestic, so I decided to throw in a case. It's based on The Adventure of The Veiled Lodger.**


	4. Erring Falls

"I talked to her about the shouting and suggested she get some help. She didn't like the idea of going to the police or the clergy, so I suggested you. Well, she agreed to that idea and she told me if you wouldn't come, to give you the name Erring Falls. That it would bring you, if you're the man she thinks you are. " Mrs. Turner finished talking and waited for Sherlock's opinion.

''It just might. Very good, Mrs. Turner. Please have her ready to see us in your home at around 3 o'clock.'' Sherlock said as he lead Mrs. Turner out the door. As soon as the door closed, books began wildly flying around Sherlock as he searched through an unorganized pile in the corner.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?''Enola asked, picking up one of the books Sherlock had discarded .

''The case made me wonder, at the time. Here are my notes to prove it. I'm afraid that I couldn't make anything of it then. But, I was convinced that the coroner was wrong. Do you not know of the Erring Falls tragedy?"

''Can't say that I do.'' Enola said.

''John?'' Sherlock asked.

''Um, no.'' John said,''but, I'm sure both Enola and I would like to know.''

''It was about seven years ago in Erring Falls. There was an incident at a zoo. A lioness somehow got loose, killing one person, and disfiguring another.'' Sherlock explained.

''I'm going to make a guess here that Mrs. Rider was the one disfigured.'' Enola said. ''But, who was the other person?''

''Her Husband. They both worked at the zoo, he as a veterinarian, she as his assistant. They found Mr. Rider in the examination room, the back of his head crushed in and deep claw-marks across his scalp. Outside, a few yards from the open door, lay Mrs. Rider upon her back, with the creature above her. It had torn at her in such a fashion that it was never thought that she would live. There were no other points of interest in the evidence, save that the woman in a delirium of agony kept screaming, 'Cruel! So cruel a loss!' as she was brought to a hospital. It was a few months before she was fit to give evidence, but the inquest was duly held, with the obvious verdict of death from misadventure.''

''It certainly sounds suspicious.'' Enola said, ''What do you think, John?''

"Yes, it does sound odd.''

Glancing at the clock Sherlock said, "It's almost three. I suggest that we prepare to meet the veiled lady.''

**Author's Note**

**Sorry for such a short chapter. Writing a case based off of one one of the stories is hard! Reviews are as welcome as new episodes of Sherlock and we all know how rare those are. So please review.**


	5. The Veiled Lady's Secret

**Author's Note**

**I haven't posted a chapter in almost a week, but this chapter is my longest one yet so...**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except for Enola it all belongs to the BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Doyle.**

Wrapping her coat around herself to keep out the wind, Enola stood shivering at the edge of the street waiting for Sherlock to hail a cab.. ''Taxi!'' Sherlock hailed. A cab slowed down and the three of them got into the cab. It didn't take long to get to South Brixton and before long the cab slowed down and John, Enola, and Sherlock departed it.

At the door they were greeted by Mrs. Turner, ''She's in her flat waiting for you. Her room is on the first floor, to the left.''

Enola slipped her hand up the bannister as she and John followed Sherlock, who had practically bounded up the stairs.

''Sherlock, do you think she knows what really happened that day?'' asked Enola as she caught up with her brother.

''Yes, quite possibly. ''Sherlock answered knocking on the door.

''Come in, Mr. Holmes.'' A muffled voice said from behind the door.

Sherlock opened the door and walked in, followed by Enola and John. The room was dark and sparsely decorated. In the corner was Mrs. Rider, sitting in an armchair. She was wearing a thick, dark veil that covered her face. She had obviously been a beauty when she was younger, but now, she was thin and gaunt.

''I knew you would come when you heard my name. I heard you were very interested in my case.'' Mrs Rider stated.

''Yes, and I might have been able to solve it, if at the time, I had been hired." Sherlock said. ''I'm very curious as to why, after seven years, you have called me here."

''Before we continue, Mr. Holmes, why don't you introduce me to your colleagues?"

''This is Dr. John Watson-''Sherlock began, but was interrupted by Mrs. Rider, ''You brought a doctor?!'' She said jumping out of her chair. If they could've seen her face, Enola was sure they would've seen a suspicious look on it.

"He always comes with me on other cases. Believe me, when I say your case is by no means the exception."

''Oh.'' she uttered, as she slowly sat back down.

"And, I'm Enola Holmes, his sister.'' Enola said, tilting her head at Sherlock's direction. ''Wherever they go, I go.

''Well, it's nice to meet the two of you,'' Mrs. Rider said. ''I'd ask you to sit down, but this is the only chair. There is the bed, if you want to sit down, though.

''Thank you, but I think we'll remain standing.'' Sherlock said answering for John and Enola. ''And you still haven't answered my question. Why have you called us here?''

" I want it to be known, what really happened seven years ago. I have told this story, this final confession of mine, so often in my mind. Seven years ago, I murdered my husband. Are you shocked, Mr. Holmes?"

"My husband he - he was a cruel abusive man. He had such a temper and he would drink and when he was mad or drunk or both, he would hurt me. How strange that a man who made his living healing the wounds of animals, would inflict them on his own wife.'' Mrs. Rider said bitterly.

''So, you had an abusive husband, but what drove you to murder him?'' Sherlock questioned.

''I knew I had to leave him when I discovered I was pregnant. I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting my child. I began making plans,'' She was on the edge of crying and there was a noticeable tremor in her voice. ''I don't know how he found out, but he did. He was drunk and furious at me, he began throwing me and hitting me...'' Mrs. Rider's hands were shaking and she couldn't seem to continue talking.

''You lost the baby, didn't you?'' Sherlock asked. Despite Sherlock's stiff manner, Enola could tell that her brother was furious at the dead man for causing Mrs. Rider to lose her baby.

Mrs. Rider gathered herself and continued talking, ''When I found out I had lost my child... I could only think about how much I hated the man I thought I once loved. Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly, but in my eyes he was a murder and I his executioner. I planned his death."

"The lioness at the zoo was pregnant, how ironic that it should kill him." Enola thought she heard a smile in the veiled woman's voice. "We needed to conduct blood tests, to make sure everything was alright. Before bringing her into the exam room, I would use the injection stick to tranquilize her, but this time I put less of a dose into the needle."

Mrs. Rider was quiet for a few moments, as if she were lost in thought. When she began again, it seemed as if she had moved on to another topic. "The zoo is built over a system of drains meant to divert waste water into the sewers. There are grates built into the floors, for cleaning. For example, when we would clean the exam room, the last step would be to use a hose on the floor and sweep the water into the grate. You see, that's where I hid the weapon. A rubber mallet, covered in cloth. Every time he hit me, every time I begged, and every bit of anguish from losing my child-I put all of that into the blow that finished him. She woke, as expected and smelled his blood. She went for him. I thought she was groggy enough, that I would have time... But something happened I didn't plan. As soon as I disposed of the weapon, she was there, attacking me. I guess she went back to him, and I ran. I didn't shut the door behind me, and, well...at least she didn't hurt anyone else. I only wanted him dead. Now you know the truth.'' Mrs. Rider finished.

''You shouldn't kill yourself.'' Sherlock said.

''How did you know?'' She asked.

''Because, why call me here? It's been several years since you murdered your husband, surely you don't feel guilty about killing him, not after all this time, yet you wanted to confess. Conclusion: You wanted to unburden your mind before committing suicide." Sherlock explained.

''Why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill myself.'' Mrs. Rider insisted.

"Orange and red sunsets, flowers that are strong enough to grow between cracks in the pavement, the crisp smell of winter, the thousands of stars that form constellations. I could give a hundred more reasons why you shouldn't kill yourself, but the main one being that life is so precious.'' It wasn't Sherlock who spoke but Enola, who had been horrified at the thought that the women right in front of her was planning her own death. ''It's not worth getting rid of.''

''I'll think about what you have said, but please leave now.'' Mrs. Rider said quietly.

All three of them were quiet on the Taxi ride back home. Enola could only hope and pray that what she had said would convince Mrs. Rider not to commit suicide.

''Sherlock, do you think that sometimes murder is justice?'' Enola asked breaking the silence.

Sherlock paused before he replied,''Sometimes, yes I do.

* * *

**Two Days Later**

''Enola, this package came for you in this morning's post.'' John told her handing her a small package.

Enola didn't recognize the writing on the box and there was no return label. She stared at it curiously, wondering who it was from. Well, the only way to find out what was in it and who sent it was to open the package. She ripped the brown paper off and opened the box, withdrawing a small silver blade. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and she picked up a letter that was in the box.

_To Miss Enola Holmes_

_You have convinced me that my life is worth living. I have sent you this little temptation, in the hopes that my thoughts of suicide will never return._

_Mrs. Elizabeth Rider_

''Who's it from?'' John asked. He had seen her face slip from confusion into a broad grin and was curious as to what had made her happy. Enola handed the letter to John and watched as he read it. ''You convinced this women not to kill herself. That's amazing! You Holmes' never cease to amaze me.'' John exclaimed.

''Well, I don't think what I did was so amazing. Anyone could have done.'' Enola said.

''Not Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't have done it."


	6. Like Brother Like Sister

Watching out the window of the cafe, Enola fiddled with the pencil she held in her fingers. She was trying to sketch a picture of Sherlock from memory, but it wasn't going well. Enola couldn't quite get his facial expression right and she was half tempted to draw a grin on his face except that it would look foreign. With a sigh of frustration she gave up. She was pretty good at drawing, but facial expressions were her Achilles heel. Oh, well. She was better at playing the piano and violin anyway. Enola slipped her pencils and drawing pad back into her satchel and withdrew her mobile and headphones. Putting her headphones in her ears, she scrolled through her music and settled on one of her favorite songs A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. She took a sip of her tea and let herself fall into the music. It was nice to get away from the chaos of 221B. Enola couldn't really relax when she was around her brother because he was always on alert for a case. She heard the blip sound that signaled she had a text. _Oh, what now? If he has texted me to bring him a pen, I'm going to jam it in his eye. _Enola thought to herself as she turned her music off to check her text messages.

**A car has just driven up to the front of Speedy's cafe. Get into the car -MH  
**

Enola turned her head and glanced out the window. There was indeed a car waiting in front of the cafe. _Really_? She sighed rolling her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. He couldn't just talk to her over lunch. No, he had be all dramatic. With a sigh she slung her satchel on to her shoulder, walked out of the cafe and slid into the black car.

''Long time no see. Huh, kid?'' The voice came from Enola's left and belonged to a women with brunette hair, who was currently engrossed with her mobile.

"Hey Anthea. Yeah, it's been a while.'' Enola said. She stared out the window watching everything go by in a blur. ''What is the old miser mad about this time?''

''I'm not sure, but whatever it is is between you and your brother.'' Anthea replied, not even looking up from her phone.

'' Do you know, every time I see you you're always using your phone? What do you do on that thing anyway?'' Asked Enola.

''Well, I'm your brother's PA. I schedule his meetings with important political figures and pretty much do whatever he needs done. He'd be lost without me.'' Anthea said with a smile.

''Yeah, he sure would be.'' Enola muttered quietly. She knew her brother's true feelings for Anthea.

''Here we are.'' Anthea stated as the car stopped.

Enola stepped out of the car and walked into the warehouse. ''Mycroft. I know you're in here!'' Enola shouted into the empty warehouse.

''Hello sister dear.'' A familiar voice greeted from behind her. Enola whirled around to face her brother Mycroft, with that familiar smirk on his face.

''So, you're still doing this,'' Enola said, gesturing around the abandon warehouse. It was more of a statement than a question.

''How many people have you scared, bringing them here?'' She asked with a laugh.

''That is irrelevant.'' He answered.

''Is there a specific reason why you couldn't just oh, I don't know maybe meet me at the cafe?'' Enola asked.

''I don't make it a habit to frequent cafes. Now to the point. I'm sure you've figured out by now why you have been brought here.'' Mycroft said.

''Yeah, I've made a guess. It's because I've moved into Baker Street, isn't it?''

''Very good, Enola. Yes, it has been brought to my attention that you've moved in with our brother and his goldfish.'' Mycroft scoffed.

''John's not a goldfish!'' Enola interjected. ''He's not stupid like some other people.''

''Well, I can see you're very passionate about that subject, so let us forget this little spat.'' Mycroft suggested.

''Alright.''

''But back to the point, are you aware of the dangers of prancing around with Sherlock and John Watson, solving cases with them, and placing yourself in the path of danger.'' He inquired.

''Dangers? Look, I know some of these cases are sort of dangerous, but I'm not a child!''

''I'm just looking out for your best interests, Enola. You are still a child''

''I am not a child! I'm nineteen. And, did it ever occur to you that maybe I can take care of my self?'' Enola questioned in anger.

''No, not in the least. You would be far safer moving in with me.''

''Oh yes, like that's going to happen! Let me draw your attention to spring break two years ago.''

''That is not an incident I would like to revisit.''

''I couldn't go anywhere without you interrogating me, you scared away a guy I liked, and there were cameras everywhere!'' Enola shouted, listing her reasons off one by one. ''And so many rules- don't touch this, don't go there."

''You ran away.'' Mycroft stated.

''Well anyone would have!''

''You were missing for ten hours!''

''I'm sorry.'' Enola admitted quietly and she really was. She had never meant to cause such worry, she had just needed her space.

''As am I.''

''Well, now you see why I can't stay with you, we'd claw each others throats out. And I've always gotten along better with Sherlock. So is that it, what you wanted to talk to me about?''

''Yes, and the car is waiting to bring you back to Baker Street. But remember, my offer is still open.'' Mycroft told her.

''Yeah, I'll remember that." Enola said, walking toward the door. She turned around for a brief moment and yelled into the warehouse, ''Bye, Mikey.''

As she left the warehouse, Enola was pretty sure she heard him say, ''It's Mycroft.''

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Once again, I'm sorry for the late update. I've been really busy lately. And thank you to everyone who has followed, Favorited, and/or left reviews. Whenever I get a review it makes me really happy, and I love to hear your thoughts on the story. **

**Also, I should probably clarify a few things. The first being that Enola is sort of a musical prodigy and she loves to dance. The second being that Enola and Mycroft despite not getting along really well, do care about each other. Their relationship is complicated. Mycroft didn't spend a lot of time with her when she was a child, mostly because he was an adult and busy with his own life, but also because he thought she was just a silly child. Now he feels a bit guilty that he didn't spend time with her and that he doesn't really know anything about her. Mycroft invited her to spend her spring break at his mansion (I think he has a mansion with such an important job) but it ended in disaster because of Mycroft's overprotective ways. Why is he so ****overprotective of her? Well there have been a few things that have happened in her past, that I will tell about in future chapters.  
**

**Please review. I love reading them. **


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